Squire's Quest (40 page)

"Not anymore, I reckon," Hattie said, and felt her heart break all over again.

"No," Emmet agreed. "Not anymore."

* * * *

Denver
October 1876

"It's a girl. Your baby's a girl."

Callie reached shaking hands to touch the wet, squirming creature lying face down
across her belly.
My daughter. Merlin, we have a daughter.
"Is she--"

"She's fine. Can't you tell, the way she's still yelling? Just hold onto her while I take care
of the cord. Then we'll clean her up and you can hold her."

Minta hummed as she worked. After a few minutes, she said, "There now. She's all
warm and cozy. Give her to Callie."

Lily laid the blanket wrapped bundle in Callie's waiting arms. "Babies are just the
ugliest things. It's a good thing they grow out of it."

"Lily!"

"Well they are, all squashed and red. I'm glad I never had one."

"You wouldn't know what to do with it if you did," Callie said, but she found the words
difficult to speak. She was so tired, yet she didn't want to sleep. She could lie here forever, just
holding her daughter.

She was aware of Minta tending to her, heard Lily go into the hall and tell the waiting
women they all had a pretty little niece to spoil. Unable to take her eyes from the sight of her
baby's squashed, red little face, she only realized she was weeping when a tear trickled down her
neck. When she reached up to wipe it away, Minta saw her.

"Here now, you're supposed to be happy. I thought you wanted this babe."

"I did. I do." She sniffed, swallowed the lump that seemed stuck in her throat. "Her
father won't ever see her."

Minta's hand covered hers. "I know, but at least she has a father. Melissa doesn't know
who her little boy's pa is."

Three of the women at Tilly's had children. They lived in the house next door, a roomy
place with a big back yard. Callie had stayed there ever since the week after she'd arrived, and
hoped she'd be able to remain forever. Maybe living next door to a bawdyhouse wasn't the best
place for children, but it was better than anything she'd known as a child. There were no men to
abuse or belittle them, and the only mothers there were those who'd chosen the role.

She'd learned most whores either got rid of the occasional accident, or gave the children
away at birth.

Tilly bustled in. "Well, now, I hear you've a little girl. Have you picked a name?"

A boy would have been Merlin, of course, but picking a girl's name had been more
difficult. She didn't want to name her child after anyone on her side, and she didn't know
Merlin's mother's name. One day, as she'd been reading the book he'd called his favorite, the one
about knights and kings and quests, she'd suddenly known there was only one possible name for
his daughter. "Guinevere. Her name is Guinevere Matilda. For her pa and for you."

Tilly's chin quivered and she gave a little sniff. "Well, now, that's just about the nicest
thing anyone's ever done for me. I guess it makes me her granny."

"I'd be honored," Callie said, reaching out to take Tilly's hand. "And so will she, when
she is a little older."

Boise City
June 1884

His family was moving on, even as Merlin was marking time. If he ever hoped to have
children of his own, he should be seeking a wife.

His younger brother and sister were both still in school back East and Regina seemed
determined to be a spinster. Micah King had a son, almost a year old now. Micah still mourned
Gray Dove, who had died in childbirth, but caring for little Gray Owl had kept him from falling
into melancholy.

Tony and Lulu both younger than he, now had twins, born just this afternoon. Everyone
had gathered for the birth. The rejoicing was still going on, both in the parlor and in the barn,
where the men had gathered to toast the newest additions to the family. He'd never developed a
taste for the firewater his father called cherry-jack, so he'd taken a token sip when they toasted
Tony, before escaping into the woodlot. More and more he was finding solitude necessary.

Motion caught his eye and he looked to the west. Regina must have found the jollity as
trying as he had. She was heading, with her usual long, free strides, toward the river. For a
moment he considered joining her, but decided they both probably needed to be alone.

I am alone too damned much.

Young Rye had married last summer. He and his wife were homesteading over on the
Payette, near her parents. Even Abel, Pa's one-armed hired man, was courting. Mrs. Petrie, his
mother's long-time cook, was likely to become Mrs. Greene before too much longer.

"Join you?"

Without turning around, he said, "I'm not good company, but sure."

Silas, his uncle in every way but blood, gripped his shoulder. "Ever thought of getting
away for a while? You used to have a strong dose of wanderlust."

"I've thought about it. Now Pa's back, he and Abel could handle the River Ranch."

"Soomey says your heart is still troubled. She wants you to come with us when we head
to San Francisco. You used to talk about seeing the Pacific Ocean. Did you get there?"

"No, I--" He'd got married instead, and he still didn't know why. There were other ways
to protect a woman besides taking her to wife. He remembered riding away from Boise City a
long time ago, money in his purse and anticipation of high adventure in his heart. Some of the
events of the next six years were as clear in his memory as if they'd happened yesterday. None of
them had to do with a wife.

"Then come. We'll probably head for Hong Kong in a couple of months, and we could
drop you off in Hawaii, or you could go all the way with us."

"I'll think about it," he said, knowing full well he wouldn't. His adventuring days were
over. He was a man now, with a man's responsibilities.
Too bad I came to them too
late.

"Silas?"

"Hmm?" Silas fiddled with his pipe.

"Did you pull any damfool stunts when you were off adventuring?"

Silas nearly dropped his pipe when his mouth fell open. His laughter boomed out. He
finally got his breath. "Great God, lad, of course I did. I was robbed, narrowly escaped getting
shanghaied, fell for every trick a crooked poker player ever dreamed up, and tried to pick a fight
with a big Swede who outweighed me by a hundred pounds. I got to Hawaii with a poke full of
gold and left there broke and a lot wiser. I had the clothes on my back--dirty and torn, by the
way--and a berth on a merchantman with an understanding skipper."

"But you came home rich."

"And I worked my arse off to do it. But I was luckier than you. I didn't fall afoul of a
damsel in distress or get in the way of a crowd of murdering bastards."

"A damsel-- What the hell do you mean?"

"Calm down. I'm not insulting your wife." He chuckled, paused to fiddle with the pipe
again. "I'm surprised you haven't heard that before. Your mother says you were bound to jump to
the defense of the first damsel in distress you found, but she means it kindly. She understands
your need to be a pure and gallant knight."

Reining in the irritation that made him want to snarl, Merlin stared off toward the river.
When he had himself in hand, he said. "Nonsense. I'm no knight. If you want to compare me to
those folks in the fairy tales about King Arthur, I'm the squire who failed his quest."

Once again Silas' hand gripped his shoulder. "No, lad, you didn't. Maybe you didn't slay
the dragon, or whatever it is squires have to do before they get knighted, but you acted honestly
and nobly. You took the steps you saw fit to protect a woman in danger. You tried. That's all a
man can do. Try his best."

"I'm not sure it was my best."

"I am. You'd never do anything less. Now, let's head back to the house. I heard rumors
of bread pudding with brandy sauce before I came out."

* * * *

Merlin went back to the River Ranch the next day, so it was two weeks before he heard
Silas and Soomey had left.

Abel brought the news when he came out with a wagon load of supplies. "They got a
telegram. Some old friend of theirs is sick, so they took off to visit her. They'll be back before
they head for San Francisco. Silas said you were thinking of goin' with them."

"I did, for a minute or two. Decided my place is here. I guess I used up all my
wanderlust." He laid a plank up against the tail of the wagon so they could roll out the barrel of
flour. "Give 'er a shove."

Once the wagon was unloaded, they sat in the kitchen and drank the coffee that had set
on the back of the stove since breakfast. "You need yourself a cook, boy. This ain't fit to
drink."

"I notice you swallowed. If you don't like it, spit."

"I've drank worse." Leaning to the side, he reached to the counter for the milk pitcher. "I
hear Nettie Proffitt's lookin' for a new place. She's a passable cook, and a cuddly armful."

"No thanks."

"How long's it been since you had a woman, boy?"

"I wish to God you'd stop calling me boy. We're close enough to the same age to make
no difference."

"I've got five years on you. And a lot more miles. How long?"

"None of your business." The question made Merlin take stock, though. How long
had
it been? There had been frost on the ground when he'd ridden to town, ice in the
water bucket when he'd returned the next morning. "Too long, I guess."

Trouble was, he still felt as if he was betraying his wife--the woman he had no memory
of--whenever he visited the discrete little house on the edge of Chinatown. He had no memory of
the woman he'd married, save occasional visions of long, thick black hair and leaf-green eyes.
Her voice never sounded in his mind, nor did his body remember the feel of her, his mouth recall
the taste of her.

* * * *

Denver
Mid-June 1884

"We're closed."

"I'm not a customer." Silas took a second look. "Celeste?"

"Yes. Who-- Oh, thank God you're here, Silas. Soomey, is that you?"

"You had better remember me as well as you do Boss, or I will be very angry. Let us
in."

The woman, dark haired, lovely, but not young, stepped aside. "Come in, by all means.
Tilly will be so glad to see you." Her practiced smile disappeared.

"How is she?"

"Not good, I'm afraid. The doctor says she's barely hanging on."

"It's just luck I got here. Your cable chased me from London to Boise."

"We are grandparents," Soomey said. "I have brought a photograph to show Tilly."

Celeste led them up two flights of stairs, to a room at the end of the corridor. She
stopped at a door, tapped lightly before opening it a crack. "Tilly? You awake?"

"I am now. What is it?"

"Silas and Soomey. They've come to see you."

"Well bring 'em in here. I've little enough time left, so don't waste it."

"Ever the realist." Silas bent over the bed and kissed the woman. "Great God, Tilly.
You're as lovely as ever."

"Bullshit. I'm old and wrinkled and skinny as a rail. But I'm not dead yet. Did you bring
that sassy wife of yours?"

"I am here, Tilly. I have brought you Chinese medicine and a great surprise."

"Give me the surprise first. I've about had my fill of medicine." With Celeste's help. She
scooted up until she was half sitting against three fat pillows. "Well? Where's my surprise?"

Soomey took a framed photograph from her reticule. "These are our grandchildren.
Hope and Will. They are the most beautiful children in the world."

Tilly peered at the photograph, and tears welled in her eyes. "They are indeed. So Tony
finally got married, did he? Who's the lucky girl?"

"William and Flower's girl--you met them at our wedding." Silas said.

"The big black buck and the Injun girl, lived up there where Buffalo's folks did?
Them?"

"Indeed," Soomey said, not quite bristling. "They are very good people."

"Soomey, all that family is good people. You did well to marry into it. I wish..."

"Tilly, you know you could have called on any of them whenever you needed to," Silas
took her hand. "You've been a good friend to us all. Buff had to get back to Hong Kong, but he
sent his love."

They spoke of old friends and old times until Tilly's mouth tightened and pain lines
formed around her eyes. Claiming travel weariness, Soomey pulled Silas away and they left
her.

A little later, Celeste came to their room. "I hope you don't mind staying here. We
wanted you close. Can you stay until..." Her voice broke and came high and trembling. "...until
the end?"

"As long as is necessary," Silas assured her.

Soomey embraced Celeste, murmuring wordlessly to her. After a while she claimed a
need to oversee preparations for the night's business.

Silas promised they'd be available whenever Tilly was awake.

"Good. I think it's time for someone to be with her all the time, but she wouldn't hear of
me taking any of the girls off duty." A twisted smile said more than her words. "She's not close
to most of them like she is to me and Callie."

"We'll be here. You do what you have to do. And get some rest. You look like you could
use it."

"Thanks. I... Thanks. I'm so glad you're here."

Once they were alone, Soomey wept. "She was good to me," she said. "I was mean,
because she was a whore and I detested her. But she was kind and generous, and she acted as my
mother. Tilly is a good woman, even if she was a whore."

"Emmet told me she'd given him hints about problems more than once. When the
Plummer Gang tried to take over, she worked with some of the other business people in the
Basin. Probably save several lives, and sabotaged some of Plummer's efforts."

"I will go to her now. You rest, and come later. After midnight."

"No, Let me take the first shift."

"Boss, you listen to me. You were awake late last night, talking to the man on the train
who will ship his goods on S&L ships. I slept. Now it is your turn."